Chapter 14 - The Day She Called Me Dad
Grace called Sophie Mom immediately.
Me?
Not so fast.
I remained Ethan.
Or Army Guy.
Occasionally Mister Ethan when she wanted something expensive.
I pretended not to care.
Sophie knew better.
“Don’t rush her.”
“I’m not.”
“You looked wounded when she called Daniel Uncle Danny.”
“I dislike Daniel.”
“You love Daniel.”
“I tolerate Daniel.”
Daniel walked into the kitchen at exactly that moment.
“Daddy issues?”
I nearly threw a spoon at him.
Grace laughed.
Sophie laughed harder.
The adoption process moved slowly.
Background checks had already been completed, but legal steps remained.
Grace’s biological mother had not appeared for months.
Her father was unknown.
The court scheduled a final hearing.
We tried not to make promises.
But the house changed anyway.
Grace’s room became hers.
Not temporary.
Her drawings went on the refrigerator.
Shoes collected near the door.
A purple bicycle appeared in the garage.
I taught her to ride.
The first attempt ended with both of us on the grass.
“You said you knew how.”
Grace accused.
“I know how to ride a bicycle.”
“That is different from teaching.”
“Apparently.”
Sophie stood on the sidewalk laughing.
“Very helpful.”
I said.
“I’m documenting.”
She held up her phone.
“Delete that.”
“Never.”
Grace eventually learned.
I ran behind her holding the seat.
Then let go.
She pedaled twenty feet.
Thirty.
Forty.
“I’m doing it!”
She screamed.
“You’re doing it!”
She turned to look at me.
The bicycle immediately went into the grass.
She jumped up.
“I was doing it.”
“Yes.”
“Then you distracted me.”
“Also yes.”
She laughed.
For one second, I saw the future I had once thought was gone forever.
A child.
A bicycle.
Sophie.
Home.
Not the version I had imagined.
Better because it was real.
That night, Sophie and I stood outside Grace’s room.
“She left her shoes in the hallway.”
I whispered.
Sophie looked at me.
“What?”
I stared at the tiny sneakers.
“I used to imagine that.”
Her eyes filled.
“I know.”
“A kid leaving shoes everywhere.”
She squeezed my hand.
“You got your wish.”
“I’m going to make her put them away tomorrow.”
Sophie laughed.
“Parenthood.”
The final adoption hearing arrived six months after Grace first entered our house.
She wore a blue dress.
Sophie wore Morning Mist gray.
I told her the color still looked boring.
She threatened divorce.
The judge smiled when Grace entered.
He had reviewed the case.
He asked Grace whether she understood what adoption meant.
She nodded.
“It means they can’t return me like a library book.”
The judge coughed to hide a laugh.
Sophie covered her mouth.
I stared at the ceiling.
Then the judge asked,
“Do you want Ethan and Sophie Parker to become your legal parents?”
Grace looked at Sophie.
Then me.
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
The judge signed the order.
Just like that.
Grace Parker.
Our daughter.
Sophie cried.
I cried.
Luke cried openly this time.
Daniel denied crying despite photographic evidence.
Rachel attended by video.
She smiled through tears.
Outside the courthouse, Grace took my hand.
We walked toward the car.
Then she stopped.
“Dad?”
I froze.
Sophie stopped too.
Grace looked up.
“Can we get ice cream?”
I couldn’t answer.
My throat had closed.
Grace frowned.
“Dad?”
Sophie covered her mouth.
I crouched.
“What did you call me?”
Grace became embarrassed.
“Dad.”
I pulled her into my arms.
She squealed.
“Too tight!”
“Sorry.”
I loosened my hold.
She looked confused.
“You’re crying.”
“No.”
“You are.”
“Wind.”
“We’re inside.”
“Very aggressive indoor wind.”
Sophie laughed and cried at the same time.
Grace rolled her eyes.
“Adults are weird.”
“Yes.”
I kissed her forehead.
“Very.”
We got ice cream.
Three scoops.
Too much sugar.
Nobody cared.
Life became ordinary.
Beautifully ordinary.
School mornings.
Homework.
Parent-teacher conferences.
Grace hated math.
Loved science.
Wanted a dog.
Sophie continued saying no.
I continued supporting Sophie publicly and researching Labradors privately.
Then at Sophie’s eighteen-month remission appointment, Dr. Chen ordered routine tests.
Everything looked normal.
Almost.
She entered the room holding a lab sheet.
Her expression was strange.
Not worried.
Not exactly.
“Sophie.”
“Yes?”
“When was your last period?”
Sophie frowned.
“You know treatment made them irregular.”
“Yes.”
Dr. Chen looked at me.
Then back at her.
“We ran a pregnancy test.”
The room stopped.
Sophie laughed.
“No.”
Dr. Chen smiled.
“Yes.”
I stared.
“What?”
Sophie’s face went white.
“No.”
“Your hCG is positive.”
“No.”
She shook her head repeatedly.
“That’s not possible.”
“It is.”
The past crashed into the room.
Positive tests.
Loss.
Hospitals.
Blood.
Fear.
Sophie stood.
“No.”
I reached for her.
She stepped away.
“Don’t.”
Dr. Chen remained calm.
“We need to confirm and evaluate.”
“I can’t.”
Sophie whispered.
“I can’t do this again.”
I stood between her and the door.
Not blocking.
Just near.
“You don’t have to do anything right now.”
“I’ll lose it.”
“You don’t know.”
“Yes, I do.”
Her voice rose.
“My chromosomes.”
“The chemotherapy.”
“My body.”
“I know what happens.”
Grace was at school.
Thank God.
Sophie covered her face.
“I can’t bury another baby.”
I took her hands.
“You don’t have to believe this ends well.”
She looked at me.
“Then what?”
“Just believe we can survive today.”
Her tears fell.
Dr. Chen arranged an ultrasound.
Too early to see much.
A gestational sac.
Nothing else.
Repeat in ten days.
Ten days became ten years.
Sophie refused to buy a pregnancy test.
Refused to calculate a due date.
Refused names.
I respected it.
Mostly.
At night, I lay awake listening to her breathe.
On day ten, we returned.
The ultrasound technician moved the probe.
Silence.
Sophie gripped my hand.
I stared at the monitor without understanding.
Then the technician smiled.
“There.”
A tiny flicker.
Heartbeat.
Sophie stopped breathing.
I did too.
The technician turned the sound on.
Fast.
Soft.
Perfect.
Exactly like years ago.
Sophie cried.
I cried.
Neither of us celebrated.
Not yet.
We had learned too much.
At twelve weeks, the heartbeat remained.
At sixteen, normal.
Genetic testing showed the fetus had inherited a balanced chromosome pattern rather than an unbalanced one.
Healthy so far.
Sophie remained terrified.
So did I.
At twenty weeks, anatomy scan normal.
At twenty-four weeks, Sophie finally bought one baby blanket.
Nothing else.
At twenty-eight weeks, she allowed Grace to know.
We sat our daughter down.
“We need to tell you something.”
Grace stared at Sophie’s stomach.
“You’re pregnant.”
We froze.
“How did you know?”
“You stopped drinking coffee and Dad looks scared all the time.”
Sophie laughed.
“Fair.”
Grace’s eyes widened.
“Am I getting a baby?”
“If everything keeps going well.”
“Boy or girl?”
We knew.
Sophie looked at me.
“Girl.”
Grace screamed.
Then hugged Sophie carefully.
“I’m going to be a sister.”
My eyes filled.
At thirty-two weeks, everything remained normal.
At thirty-four, Sophie developed high blood pressure.
We were sent to the hospital for monitoring.
Dr. Chen was no longer the main physician, but she visited anyway.
At thirty-five weeks, the pressure worsened.
The obstetrician recommended delivery.
Sophie looked at me.
“Too early.”
“She’s safer out than in.”
The doctor explained.
Sophie began shaking.
The hospital room transformed in my mind.
The miscarriages.
Oncology.
Everything.
I took her face in my hands.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“Today.”
I said.
“Just today.”
She nodded.
Labor was induced.
Hours passed.
Then alarms sounded.
The baby’s heart rate dropped.
Nurses entered.
The doctor’s voice became urgent.
Emergency C-section.
I was pushed aside while they prepared Sophie.
Her eyes found mine.
“Ethan!”
“I’m here!”
They wheeled her away.
I followed until the doors closed.
A nurse stopped me.
“You need to wait.”
I stared through the small glass window.
The last thing I saw was Sophie’s terrified face.
Then the doors shut.
And for the first time since cancer, I felt the old instinct returning.
Run.
Hide.
Become numb.
But I had made a promise.
If I ever wanted to run, I would run toward her first.
May you like
So I stood outside those doors and waited.
Then, from somewhere beyond them, an alarm began screaming.
